


not even the devil wants you; a human game AU story

by fridayivy



Category: The Human Game
Genre: also featuring: some body horror and a person with possible mind-breaking powers, featuring: a diner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-20 11:17:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10661454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fridayivy/pseuds/fridayivy
Summary: I wrote up a little AU story with The Human Game because I was THINKING SOME THINGS and I wanted to write a story about SAID THINGS. Some AU details:The Human Game did happen.Everyone survived The Human Game. Even Seth, who came out…well, different.Cancel is dead though. Like 1000% dead.This takes place ?????? years after the events of The Human Game.Null are a world-wide known thing and several are powerful enough to pose a terrible threat to humanity.Seth is part of a task force (headed by a grown Kate Greenwood) and helps her deal with various Null-related incidences.Several canon details regarding the existence of the Null and CERTAIN PEOPLE have been changed to keep the actual mystery a secret (though for the most part, this is accurate to the canon).I have no idea what I’m doing and I’m so sorry if this story makes little sense, I’m sorry this is so long, I just wanted a conversation between these two to happenIf you have questions FEEL FREE TO ASK I love the idea of this AU…it’s partly inspired by Nier: Automata, I can say that (though nobody is an android here)





	not even the devil wants you; a human game AU story

A diner, usually, is a very rowdy place. This one isn’t. There’s only silence, now, draped on the grimy countertops among fading menus and stale bottles of old condiments. Plants grow out of the cracks in the wall, vines covering what once was a menu overflowing with options. A tree even grows out of the room that used to be the kitchen, stretching high through a hole in the ceiling where bright sunlight pours through. There’s no waitresses, no waiters, no chefs cooking up greasy Americana food on little checkered bowls and plates. It’s empty as empty can be.

That is, it _usually_ is. Today is a rare event, a miracle; a single visitor has come to this abandoned diner in the middle of nowhere, sitting in one of the booths as they cradle a mug of steaming hot coffee.

They aren’t alone for long. The door rattles and rings, off-key, as another person steps inside, looking over the interior of the desolate place before turning his attention to the only other source of life in the diner. With a loud and annoyed huff, he stomps over and scowls, breaking the silence with his voice.

“You’re really just going to sit there all day, are you?”

“Excuse me?” The person sitting with their coffee glances up at the angry man, their expression remarkably passive.

“You’re not going to attack me like, I don’t know, the countless times you’ve done it before? You know I’m out there. You’ve seen me looking at you! What is this, some kind of game to you?”

The person only blinks, looking down at their mug.

“I’m drinking coffee,” they say, matter-of-factly, after a pause.

The man pushes up his dark sunglasses with long, adroit fingers, shifting them to pinch the bridge of his nose in clear exasperation.

“God, this is…whatever. Whatever! You’re weird.” He lets out a frustrated sigh. “…At least it saves me having to shove my own innards back inside of me for like what, the fiftieth time?” The man aims a scowl at the stranger. “I mean, you _know_ I’m tasked to bring you in and- wait. Wait a second. What is _that_?”

He points an accusing finger at the cup of coffee.

“…It’s coffee.”

“I can tell what it is, _idiot_.”

“Would you like some?”

The man in sunglasses only stares at him, as if the person asked him if he’d like to dye his hair a bright neon pink.

“What? No!”

“Alright. Whatever you prefer.”

“No, I’m asking how you made it, have you seen this place?”

The person only shrugs casually, gesturing to the kitchen.

“I found a coffee machine back there that was sincerely on its last legs, and I had some coffee grounds on me, so-”

The man interrupts him with a disgusted look. “On second thought, I don’t even want to know. You’re probably drinking mold or something.”

That statement gets him a good chuckle in reply – the person grins, one hand reaching back to twist one of the hairs from their long ponytail over a finger, absentmindedly.

“You won’t know until you try, Seth.”

The man known as Seth Turner Sato shakes his head, turning himself away as he glances over the diner once more, stepping around a couple of roots bursting through the tiled floor over to the entrance to the booth behind the other. He reaches forward a gloved finger to trail through the layer of dust and grime on the seat, grimacing when he pulls it away.

“Oh, don’t be so cheery. Its weirding me out.”

“How so?”

Seth’s upper lip curls. “You say that as if you haven’t almost destroyed me countless times in the middle of having the world’s largest temper tantrums.”

“They were hardly temper tantrums.”

“You took down an entire city sector on your own under ten minutes and most of that was just from the _feedback_ , don’t play dumb with me.”

The person glances back over their shoulder, their dark eyes narrowing in obvious displeasure. Seth is too busy trying to wipe off the seat to notice– he finally gives up hope on making it clean, moving to sweep back his coat and sitting down with a loud sigh.

This seemed like a casual get-together, but Seth knew very well it was anything but. Honestly, he was grateful that this wasn’t going as badly as the previous times…yet. He shudders, remembering limb being torn from limb, a leering face tarnished with black, his mind being pulled into a million directions like salt-water taffy being stretched out to infinity. This person, this creature, it was not something to be trifled with. It was a miracle he ended up alive after every encounter – Seth had a distinct feeling that it was simply because the other was going easy on him. That was it. Seth was barely a thorn in their side, a gnat bothering a gigantic creature far too uncaring to really use the effort to strike it down.

He shouldn’t be here. This is an impossible task. A suicide mission. And yet, he’s back at it again, like this time, _this_ time, he’ll somehow wrangle the monster like a David bringing down a Goliath.

This isn’t some casual talk. It’s like brushing shoulders with the devil itself.

The other’s eyes aren’t leaving him. Seth pretends to ignore them, looking down at the gray-white dust that rubbed off on his gloves.

“You’re here to bring me in, you said?”

“What, do you think I’m here to say hello? Catch up with you?” Seth lets out a bitter laugh. “See what other disastrous activities you’ve been up to of late? Haven’t I told you as much the previous times we’ve met?”

“The last time we saw each other was several years ago,” says the person, pausing momentarily to turn their face away, sipping gingerly at their coffee. “Maybe things have changed, since then.”

“Well, they haven’t. Do you know how much bullshit we have to deal with on a regular basis, and how _you_ are like a multiplier of bullshit wrapped up in one big and ugly bullshit package? You’re the scum of the earth.”

“That’s certainly a way to put it.”

Seth twists his head, clenching his fist as he leans towards the other, who hasn’t even turned to face him – oh, what, were they playing coy, now?

“You are possibly the worst thing existing on this planet, and I _wish_ I was joking, I really do.”

There’s silence from the other, before they speak up, their tone quiet. Flat. It sends a chill down Seth’s spine. Out of anyone else, it would be normal, but there was something about it, some kind of edge that he couldn’t quite grasp, that just made it completely _wrong._ He wondered if that’s what Abigail was talking about, when she was describing the peculiarities of this thing’s voice.

“So you’re saying I’m worse than the Null?”

“That’s not even a question. We’ve seen video feeds of you among them. They practically worship the ground you walk on, like you’re royalty. If that doesn’t mean you’re worse than them, I don’t know what else I can say.”

Mental images of those feeds come up – the picture of this thing, surrounded by Null, their hands and fingers and limbs brushing up against them like they’re some valuable treasure walking in their midst. They cowered before them, murmured things under their breath, ensured their path was clear. Disgusting. Monsters worshipping a monster. It’s something that makes Seth shudder to even think about.

“They don’t worship me.”

Seth’s eyes narrow behind his shades. “They don’t?”

“Seth…have you ever heard the tale of the Wandering Jew?”

“Enlighten me.”

The other leans their head back, ponytail almost brushing against Seth’s face – he recoils with a slight snarl.

“It’s a sort of Biblical tale. When Jesus was carrying the cross to the crucifixion, he had an audience. Several were his followers, helpers, people who mourned and cried because of his suffering. But there was one man who saw all of this and decided to taunt him instead. And Jesus saw this man’s cruelty, and cursed him.”

“Cursed him?”

“The curse was this: he would wander the earth forevermore, unable to die until the Second Coming. Which sounds like a gift, but it was quite the curse. For this Wandering Jew would now carry the burden of his words until the end of days, always marked as the one who looked down at the righteous figure of Jesus and insulted him in hatred.”

Hearing silence from Seth’s end, the person continues.

“I am not royalty, or some religious figure. I am merely the great sinner that the Null see themselves in. I am their Wandering Jew. They can’t help but be drawn to me.” They pause, their grin widening, revealing a set of teeth that are almost too white to be comfortable. “After all, **I am the Beast**. The legendary monster of yore. I am their _origin_. I am their beginning, and I will be their end.”

Seth stares at his hands and realizes they are trembling. He wraps his fingers in tight, taking in a quick breath while pretending to be stoic. He doesn’t feel stoic. With what he’s seen, with what he’s been through, he can’t deny the other’s words.

He’s in the presence of the monster that defined what it meant to be a monster.

In his nervousness, he thinks back on the other’s words, and despite himself, he lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head like he’s just heard a good joke.

“…What’s so funny?”

“You just…you just sounded a lot like Cancel.”

That…was a very bad move.

A very, VERY bad move.

Because as soon as he says the final word, the air changes. He feels a weight in it, oppressive and dark, the pressure of it pushing hard on his eyeballs. He can hear the clattering of the mug of coffee against the table, the loud clattering and shaking of kitchen equipment from behind the diner counter. The roots underneath his feet squirm like giant worms, plants shifting around him and cracking through drywall and plaster. The person that the energy is coming from suddenly seems like void, untouchable, vibrating, every inch of them emanating a piercing, terrible feeling of anger and hatred. Seth barely has time to think about how much of an idiot he is as he buckles in his seat, yowling in sheer pain as his mind fills with something alien, like tendrils digging into his brain hard enough to tear it asunder. He hears the words over and over again, distorted, screamed, growled, shrieked: NO NO NO NO _NO NO NO **NO NO NO-**_

And then, just like that, it all stops. The pressure is gone. His mind is clear. The other drinks their coffee casually. Everything is still. Seth lets out a gasp, his whole body trembling with fear.

“I’m _not_ like Cancel,” says the other, finally, almost hissing the last word. “But I suppose I must admit that Cancel is a part of me, in more ways than not.”

Seth pushes himself back up off the table. Okay, next time, he’s really not going to poke the bear with a stick, spoken or otherwise. Wisecracks and sarcasm aren’t always the way to go, especially with something that could practically flatten his brain in a millisecond.

But he’s an idiot no matter what, isn’t he? They gave him this mission to carry out because no one else could do it. No one else was capable. Everyone else would die. Abigail would be killed before she could even say a word, and he can’t allow that. He could never allow that. But he, Seth Turner Sato, rogue ex-capitalist, was the only living being on this planet that could face a monster like this and live to tell the tale.

_Sometimes the monsters are real. Sometimes they’re real and the only way to defeat them is…_

The other stands up, finishing off their coffee before stepping over to the booth Seth is in – Seth recoils as they move closer, their gaze practically boring into the eyes behind his shades.

“You know, I talk a lot about myself, but you’re almost in the same situation like me, aren’t you?”

“What? I’m not like you.”

“But you are. You know, I bet you don’t just keep seeking me out because of your silly mission. You do that because a part of you _wants_ this. I’m the only one who can understand you.”

Seth opens his mouth to protest, but the other suddenly reaches out, grasping him by the jaw and yanking him closer. Seth struggles in their grip, but they’re strong, abnormally so. He has no choice but to stare at the other, lips drawn back in a snarl.

“Show it to me.”

“Show you what?”

“I’ve seen it every time we’ve fought, Seth. Come on now. Don’t be coy with me.” The other lets out a breathless laugh. “Look, I can show you mine…”

The skin of their face starts to drip. It flows down, like its melting, turning a dark tar-like color. Some of it falls to the floor, and the parts of their now-melted face shift and push aside to reveal golden, tarnished metal. More and more of the changed skin moves, finally revealing a leering, monstrous, metallic face underneath it, framed by normal skin and hair.

Seth only grimaces, trying to struggle even though he knows it’s futile. He doesn’t want to look at this ugly thing, this true face, this _mask_.

“Come on, Seth…,” the mask says. “Else I’ll _force_ you to do it.”

Seth imagines more of that feeling from before, that twisted, suffocating and painful sensation of someone digging deep into his head. He doesn’t want to feel it again. Finally, with a sigh, he relents.

The shades on his face change shape with the rest of his face, sinking into the skin as his whole face darkens, transforms, pulls back layer by layer. His proboscis pushes out, unfurling as the areas of his own mask are revealed. Antennae on the top of his head twitch as he tries to avoid the other’s gaze, his golden smile turned down into a severe frown.

The other lets out a gasp, a sound of awe. It sickens Seth to his stomach.

“Aw, look at you. I haven’t had a chance to see this up close in quite a while.”

“Shut up.”

“How can I? Seth, come on, you and I, we’re both in the same circumstances. That’s why you’re here. You know you won’t bring me in.”

Seth lets out a loud growl, grasping the wrist of the other, gloves shifting into claws that attempt to dig into the other’s skin. The mask’s expression doesn’t change. It smiles, eternally.

“You made me like this, you bastard. YOU did this to me. I wouldn’t be like this if you hadn’t had a hand in it, you-!”

“And how was I supposed to know you’d survive what you did, hm?” The other tilts their head in an almost owlish fashion. “But now, like me, you’re doomed to roam the earth, unable to die. You’ll outlive everyone, which is ironic, given that you would’ve never outlived anyone if you hadn’t gone through what you did.”

“Shut up! Shut UP!!”

The other suddenly steps back, releasing their grip and twisting their arm away from Seth’s hand. The eyes of their mask narrow in an amused fashion. It makes Seth want to punch it in the face, only for the momentary satisfaction of just feeling it before he would inevitably get ripped apart eight ways to Sunday.

“Ah, but that’s right. You’re still too human, at your core.” They shrug. “But do recall, the Null are naturally drawn to me, aren’t they…?”

The point sinks in, and it sinks in deep.

No. They’re wrong. They’re wrong. He’s not a Null. Seth grasps the edge of the seat, claws digging into the fabric, every inch of him bristling with aggression.

“Go _away_.”

“What? Aren’t you going to bring me in?”

He has to. He has to stop them. The world turns and this thing still lives, still walks, still brings destruction in its wake. This is his chance. He can set things right and bring this creature in and never have to worry about it ever again. He can then live peacefully, destroy the Null, watch Abigail die, watch Kate die, watch all of them die while his own body refuses to die, be the only thing in existence that will be stuck between two worlds and unable to reconcile the both of them, both human and monster at the same time, just cursed, cursed, cursed, and alone…

He looks down, and no words come out of him. He has none to give.

This is nothing but a pathetic, useless chase, isn’t it? He’ll never bring the other in. The other will never kill him. They’ll coexist, forever enemies, in this already-doomed world.

The other smiles wider.

“Very well. I shall see you around, then, Seth. For we _shall_ see each other, won’t we?”

“Go to hell,” murmurs Seth.

The other only laughs as they move to head out the door, their face already reforming to something more human, only their eyes remaining as dark as ever.

“I don’t think the devil himself would want me there.”


End file.
